


In the Stocks

by FaeryQueen07



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Stocks porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeryQueen07/pseuds/FaeryQueen07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porn. In the stocks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Stocks

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely dracosoftie. All remaining errors are my own.

Merlin's magic never ceases to amaze him.

Arthur walks in a slow circle, eyes feasting on the sight presented to him, and his cock twitches, slowly fills as though he hasn't already come three times in the last hour. But then again, Arthur reflects, who _wouldn't_ be turned on when faced with _this_?

The stocks holding Merlin in place are as real as they can get – Arthur isn't going to ask where Merlin learned the spell to create or conjure them – and he's seen Merlin in them more times than he can count, but that isn't the reason for Arthur's renewed interest. Nor is it the fact that they are far removed from Camelot's busy courtyard and the children who gather there with the baskets of rotted fruit especially for Merlin, though it does help that there is no audience.

No, it is Merlin, stripped bare of everything save the magicked manacles that trap him in the stocks, and Arthur's seed sliding down the insides of his thighs, oozing from his reddened, puffy hole and splashed across his buttocks and back. His skin glistens with the oil they pilfer from Gaius' stores on a regular basis and his limbs tremble from overuse and exhaustion as he fights to stay standing. Merlin is...utterly debauched.

It’s Merlin’s face that makes Arthur pause. Not because of the mischievous glint to the sapphire blue eyes or the devious tilt of his altogether too luscious mouth. It is the fact that Merlin’s face is completely clean, unmarked, unused by Arthur. It is enough, the thought of decorating Merlin’s face, striping it with strings of his come, to have Arthur fully hard once more. He groans and palms himself through his loosely tied breeches, wondering how to go about making it happen.

There’s a moment or two where Arthur simply hovers, want and need swamping through him and making it hard to think of much else. He makes an indistinct noise and steps closer, brushes his fingers over Merlin’s lips and lets out the softest of moans when Merlin sucks them in, slips his tongue around them and nips gently at the pads.

“Your mouth, Merlin. I want you want your mouth. _Gods_!”

Merlin groans, pupils blown wide as he flexes his fingers. He could undo the manacles, could banish the stocks back to where he’s borrowed them from, but he doesn’t.

“Step back.” He waits, but the words don’t make it past the fog of lust in Arthur’s brain. With a disgruntled huff, Merlin bites down harder, shocking Arthur back into alertness. “ _Move_ , Arthur.”

Arthur does, stumbling back three steps even as he opens his mouth to remind Merlin of proper language. He’s got the words half out when he sees the flare of gold in Merlin’s eyes and feels the now-familiar warmth of it brushing over his skin as the air become charged with power. His eyes widen as he realizes just what it is Merlin is doing.

The stocks are literally _sinking into the ground_ , dragging Merlin down with them until he is forced to his knees. They freeze once Merlin’s face is level with Arthur’s crotch and Arthur has to close his eyes and take a deep breath so that he doesn’t come on the spot. It’s too much, seeing how readily Merlin will bend anything and everything to Arthur’s whim, including himself.

“Arthur. Arthur, _please_.”

Merlin is ready, his lips parted and damp while his hands grasp at thin air. His view is blocked, but Arthur knows that Merlin is hard – painfully so – as Arthur has not yet allowed him to come. He thinks that maybe, if Merlin is good, he will allow it.

Arthur moves in closer, pulls on the laces of his breeches and groans as his heated flesh is exposed to the cool air of early spring. One more step and his cock is brushing against Merlin’s mouth, smearing pre-come along the bottom lip before it nudges its way inside. And Merlin, the devil, simply holds his mouth open, gazing up at Arthur through his bangs.

“ _Please_!” It’s unbecoming for a prince to beg, but if that’s what it takes to get Merlin to suck, lick, _anything_ , then Arthur can, and will, set aside his pride.

“But you’re going to make me so _dirty_ , Arthur,” Merlin counters, the raggedness of his voice belying the complaint of his words.

“Absolutely filthy,” Arthur agrees as he closes the distances and presses all the way inside.

It’s the barest of touches at first, Merlin’s tongue to the head of Arthur’s cock, but slowly it becomes more. The ring of his lips tightens so that there is constant pressure on the thick vein along the underside of Arthur’s cock with each inward and outward drag while his tongue curls around the head, sliding along the edge of the foreskin before dipping into the slit to draw out more of Arthur’s flavor.

Merlin works him with great enthusiasm, sucks Arthur in as deep as he can as he flattens his tongue against the underside and hums long enough to have Arthur cursing, then backs off. It’s a game of stop-and-go that brings Arthur closer and closer to the brink before shoving him backwards, denying him release. He’s lightheaded with his need to come, wants to so badly he can taste it and his legs threaten to give out when Merlin actually _pulls off his cock_ to take a – granted, much needed – breath.

“ _Mer_ lin...” Arthur says his name on a hiss as he bends over to grip the frame of the stocks.

Merlin could reply cheekily, could tease Arthur a bit more, but he wants this just as much as Arthur. This entire set up was five minutes of filthy suggestions prior to another trip to the stocks for Merlin and three weeks in planning and spell research. He will be damned if Arthur comes before Merlin is good and ready.

With that thought in mind, Merlin applies himself to Arthur’s cock with renewed vigor, sucking, licking and occasionally nipping until the words coming out of Arthur’s mouth are more nonsensical that some of the spells Merlin has had to use. Merlin hollows his cheeks, sucks hard and swallows around the head of Arthur’s cock when it hits the back of his throat.

Arthur knows he’s close and it’s only then that he realizes he might not actually be able to come. Two times in an hour is miraculous enough, and a third was stretching it even then, but four times sounds impossible. He struggles to stand, to pull free so that he can put a halt to this until he _is_ ready, but Merlin is already ahead of him. There’s the telltale tingle of Merlin’s magic sweeping over him, settling into his balls and he knows. He _knows_ that Merlin has just made the impossible possible yet again.

With a loud groan, Arthur pulls back, hand reaching down to grasp himself as he aims his cock at Merlin’s face. A breath later, he’s coming, painting strips over Merlin’s cheeks, nose, ears and even across his eyes. The sight of it leaves Arthur somewhat breathless and his cock gives one final pulse before softening completely. It’s sore enough now that Arthur winces as he releases his hold, but he ignores the pain in favor of dropping to his knees in front of Merlin to take in the full evidence of his debauchery.

Merlin, Arthur thinks, looks absolutely lovely like this; eyes that are half closed with thread-like strings of come sticking to his lashes and more dripping down the hard slant of his cheekbones. There’s a streak of come on his nose as well, just covering the faint smattering of freckles that has blossomed there recently from too many hours of lazing beneath the sun. Arthur sucks in a sharp breath when he sees the thick strand dangling precariously from Merlin’s ear and without a thought, he leans in and sucks it off.

Merlin lets out a whine and just as suddenly the stocks are gone, sending them tumbling to the ground. Arthur has the frame of mind to snag his cloak from where he discarded it earlier and he rolls them onto it, protecting Merlin’s skin from the prickly blades of grass. Then he sets to work, tongue sweeping over Merlin’s cheeks, jaw, nose and eyes as he washes away the remnants of his release.

When Merlin’s face is clean, Arthur shifts his attention lower, finding the scattered drops on his throat and licking them away as well. He pauses to nip at Merlin’s Adam’s apple, mouths along it and bites with a bit more force than Merlin anticipates, then continues his way south. When Arthur has found last bit, he rolls Merlin onto his stomach and begins all over again.

Arthur stops when he reaches Merlin’s arse, tugging at his hips until he shifts to his knees. Sliding his thumbs into the crease, Arthur parts the rounded cheeks and stares down at Merlin’s hole, still slick and open, in part due to their prolonged activities as well, Arthur is sure, as to magic. The latter would account for how wet Merlin still is inside.

It’s fascinating, watching his own come slip out of Merlin’s overused hole when he slides his thumb inside. Merlin moans, shuddering beneath Arthur’s hands as he pushes back into the touch. The furrowed ring clenches invitingly, so Arthur slips his other thumb inside, hooks them in the ring and tugs gently to open Merlin wider to his gaze. He can feel the fine tremors in Merlin’s body, sees how his fingers are twisting in the cloak as he waits for his chance to come.

“Soon, Merlin,” Arthur promises, lowering his mouth to Merlin’s arse. “I want to—I need to...”

He settles for actions over words, slides his tongue between his thumbs and seeks out the last of his seed. He presses in with deliberate jabs, pushing unrelentingly at the puffy skin, then closes his mouth over the area and sucks, wringing a sharp cry from Merlin. Then he’s back inside, licking and nipping until Merlin is begging for an end to the torture, for Arthur to never stop, never stop at all and to please, please let him come.

“Yes. Come.”

And it’s meant to be a command but they’re both too wrung out and Merlin has been pushed past his limit too many times already. With a gasp and an almost startled cry, Merlin comes, his hips thrusting into the cloak as Arthur presses him to the ground. His own cock is too exhausted to even twitch, but the sight and sound of Merlin coming apart beneath him will stay with Arthur for a week at least.

When Merlin finally stills, Arthur stretches out beside him and tugs him into the shelter of his arms, lips brushing the back of his neck.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a long moment of silence.

“Ha.” Merlin’s voice is still shaky. “Thank _you_ , though next time we should pad the manacles. I think I’m beginning to bruise.”

Arthur merely nods, suddenly exhausted. “Blanket?” he asks as he beings to drift off.

The weight of a quilt settles over them and Arthur murmurs his thanks before tucking Merlin as close as possible. They’ll rest for now and head back at first, before his father can send knights out after them. His last thought before sleep takes him away is that he is due to inspect the dungeons at the end of the week and wouldn’t Merlin looks simply delicious spread out against one of the cold stone walls while Arthur fucks him?

 _That_ gets a twitch from his cock. But only one.


End file.
